Now I know how Joan of Arc felt.

You don't like me$$$ but you love me; either way$$$ you're wrong.

Oh$$$ I can't help quoting you$$$ because everything that you said rings true.

If you could read$$$ you knew shit.

I'm sure I shall always feel like a child in the wood.

You have the itch for writing born in you. It's quite incurable. What are you going to do with it?

I am very careful to be shallow and conventional where depth and originality are wasted.

The body is meant to be seen$$$ not all covered up.

I have a tremendous joie de vivre... alternating with irritability of course.

Cut off a wolf's head and it still has the power to bite.